


An Empty Home

by goodwineandcheese



Series: For the Love of Life [4]
Category: Monster
Genre: Character Study, Child Death, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Past, allusions to Grimmer's past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29739714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodwineandcheese/pseuds/goodwineandcheese
Summary: After being left by his wife, Grimmer faces the reality of continued living after loss, and reminisces on memories with an unexpected guest.
Series: For the Love of Life [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581775
Kudos: 7





	An Empty Home

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about what must've happened after Grimmer's wife left and the horrible bad part of me wanted to explore the immediate aftermath and having to deal with the fact that death isn't the beginning and end of loss and how that affects Grimmer in particular.
> 
> So this is a scene/character study for Grimmer more or less and follows the rest of my series with Grimmer and his wife (so she has the same name as in those stories) but you don't need to read the others to read this one.

Grimmer’s son was buried in the ground.

It had been a lonely affair, more isolating than anything else. The soothes of countless faces rolled off of him without meaning, doing little to ease his wife’s splintered heart. The custom of well-wishing and sympathies seemed empty here, in the face of such a grim reality. The words could do nothing for anyone and served only, he had to suppose, as a means to ease the heart of the speaker in some strange sense of satisfying their own terms of ‘required’ etiquette. was a ritualistic and empty phrase. In the end they returned home with his wife as miserable as before. Perhaps more so.

He, in turn, remained silently contemplative. Not human at all.

Grimmer understood the concept of loss. He understood, in its most basic sense, that it was tragic. It was something he could shape in his mind, even if the intricacies of it escaped him. The details of how it should be expressed, how he should mourn, the impact it should have on his life. If only in very basic terms, he could process the loss that he had experienced, with his wife. Or...the loss that he _suffered_ , that was a better way to frame it. The correct way. 

Where he struggled, where he found himself helpless to understand, was what came _after._ When all was done, when the loss was acknowledged in all of its sorrowing rituals, life...continued. And it was this aftermath he found stifling, impossible to navigate. Even when she left, he found himself lost in a sea of thoughts and memories. Am absent and empty world.

The absence of life was palpably felt. The absence of conversation in the kitchen; cold mornings waking in an otherwise empty bed; silence from the blue-painted room that he and she had taken time from their days to decorate. That room served no purpose now. And that was perhaps the strangest part of it all. What exactly to do…

Fingers drew lightly along smooth, white-painted wood. He gripped it firmly, relaxed his hold. It was a good and sturdy crib, one that Liese had received from a friend with no more need of it. When she’d brought it home, it had been chipped and a washed-out yellow, smelling a bit of dusted age but they - she, and he, together - had turned it into something beautiful. He remembered - she had picked the colour, just as she picked the colour for the room. Grimmer was the one to paint it, under her guidance. It had been a cooperative effort, creating this room. She had smiled quite a bit, then. She had been especially open with him, affectionate with him, vulnerable with him. In some way what he had been doing was “good” to her...it was something that she cared deeply for. 

Perhaps he could understand it, if not in the way that she did. To her eye he was putting effort into togetherness and the concept of family...this family that they were going to have. And maybe, in her eye, it marked a hopeful turning point. The loving romance that she had always sought of him. But again he was responsible for manipulating her heart. He allowed himself to be her canvas, to have her expectations and desires and assumptions painted into his skin. What was it like, then, from her perspective? To see the turning point, to see her husband truly showing his “care” for their family, for their child, only for him to become such a heartless creature when heart was what was needed the most...Grimmer couldn’t claim to know the feeling of “betrayal”, but he saw what it looked like, in her eyes. He felt the emptiness of it, in her silence. Perhaps she hadn’t intended to leave from the beginning, or perhaps she did, but the seams were already tearing apart that day.

Grimmer focused back on the room he occupied, on the ground he was standing on. He peered over the rail of the crib. Inside was a soft grey-blue blanket and a stuffed white bear with a pink heart-shaped nose and a stitched smile on its muzzle. “Babo” was what their son had called it. He had an infirm grip, dropped that bear often, and would cry for it. “Babo.” Even such a small infant understood what it was to give a name to someone important. That was something impressive, on its own...he could recognize words, and sounds - not very many, not yet, but it was something fascinating to watch. Just as fascinating was the way that Liese would cry when he repeated those sounds. She wasn’t sad...it was clear she wasn’t sad, because she would smile, and Grimmer would smile back, because that was what he was supposed to do.

A part of him wondered if this was how he had been, as an infant. If this was how his mother, even his father, had been. He wondered if that could have been his past. And he had wondered what it would be like, to watch that human grow.

That wasn’t going to happen, now.

Grimmer looked at the white-painted crib in front of him, the blanket, the stuffed bear. They served no purpose, now. They occupied space that was unnecessary. It wasn’t functional to keep them. If Liese had stayed, there could have been...another time. It was something he had said to her, in one of her fits of nightly crying. _We can try again._ But she had only cried harder and louder. _Cold,_ she had called him. At the time he’d thought it might offer comfort. With the benefit of hindsight, it probably shouldn’t have been said.

Without Liese, “again” was impossible. So, then, he found himself with an unusable room in a too-big home with a pretty green yard to be enjoyed by no one. The yard, at least, was respectable and should be maintained. The room could be converted. He could make an office out of it; though small, a writing desk could certainly be set up in this very corner. At minimum it served for storage. But for any of that to come to pass, he would have to empty the room as it was now.

He found himself floundering, unsure of how to proceed. The crib had been gifted to Liese, so he had no notion of what its value had been at the time. Nor did he particularly know if it was the appropriate course of action to sell it at all. If it had been a gift, was it his to sell? He didn’t have any awareness of colleagues that were expecting. No one to whom he could think to reach out. Perhaps the spouses of colleagues might know better, might have friends of their own who could make use. But that introduced another prospect he wasn’t wholly ready for. Because, he knew that if he approached a colleague, he would be faced with painful sympathy and platitudes of comfort. Things that he didn’t know how to handle. He couldn’t know how he was supposed to respond.

Pretending was something that he had grown accustomed to. So it was strange, that it felt different this time. Something in what Liese had said struck somewhere that Grimmer could not see and took hold. He didn’t want to lie and claim a hurt that wasn’t there. But, even then, he supposed he could speak honestly. The simple truth that he didn’t know how to feel, that was genuine. And most would sympathize and understand. The shock of such a loss could very well earn such a response. It was something that Grimmer could use, even if it wasn’t quite honest.

If he could find someone to take the crib, then he could probably find someone to take the toys. The blue and white gunpla model he had bought in Japan would be easy...he knew at least two colleagues with boys still at an age that they would like that sort of a toy. The stuffed bear, that...

Was it really okay, to erase all evidence of his son? Taking this place apart, every piece of it that carried moments, that carried memories...wasn’t that wrong? 

Grimmer did not exist. He had no proof of himself. Not a photograph of his mother, a certificate of his birth. Nothing to tell him who he was, in even a small way. If he had drawn funny pictures as a child, or had a special toy. It seemed like something inconsequential, but Grimmer...Grimmer had nothing of himself. To even know if he had a favourite toy was grounding. It meant that he had liked something, found comfort in it. Something so menial was also incredibly human.

His son had been someone. Wasn’t it wrong, to take away everything that connected him to that existence? Or, because he was gone, was it possible...that it didn’t matter? That thought…

Grimmer was taken from his train of thought by a knock to the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but he supposed it was possible that someone had come to console his wife. In a quiet neighbourhood he had come to notice that news spread quickly and neighbours often tried to offer support to one another, in what way they could. It had been that way when he and his wife had moved in together; they were greeted with surprising warmth from strangers. 

As Grimmer opened the door, it was indeed to be face to face with one of his neighbours. Mrs. Müller was two houses down. She was the mother of a four year old, Julia. Her husband was considered suspicious, an individual to be watched, though as of yet there was no unusual activity from the Müller household since Grimmer and his wife had moved in. As for what it was she had come for…

“I apologise for the intrusion. It’s just that I heard about your wife. I wanted to check on you. After everything that’s happened...”

News spread quicker than he had anticipated, then. Mrs. Müller was, from Grimmer’s little experience directly speaking to her, typically quite up to date on the latest gossip. His wife had spoken plenty of it in the past, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that she was the first to know this, too. What he wasn’t expecting was to have her “check” on him. But it was definitely sincere...she did look worried. And knowing what sort of a woman she was, Grimmer also knew that it would be difficult to satisfy her with a simple _I’m managing._ Even if he turned her away, she would definitely start to talk. Perhaps it was better that he humour her. At least that way, perhaps he could convince her to keep quiet for a while. Grimmer didn’t particularly want to become the center of attention in the neighbourhood. That could be compromising.

“I appreciate the concern. If you’d like to come in...I think I could use the company.”

She brightened at the offer, taking off her hat and shoes as she stepped inside. She looked for a place to hang her coat, while Grimmer headed into the kitchen to make tea. At the very least he could be a decent host. It was proper to offer something to drink, as the host. But just as he’d put the kettle on, he heard a fussing sound and found Mrs. Müller stepping into the kitchen and looking at him with a furrowed brow.

“Don’t worry about that. Take a seat, I’ll manage the tea.”

Grimmer wasn’t quite sure how to respond, but she was being quite insistent and, he knew, if she wasn’t satisfied she was more likely to talk once she left. So he conceded, nodding and stepping aside to take a seat at the kitchen table. “Thank you.” An appropriate response. “You’ll find the cups on the left-side cabinet.”

The woman made a noise of affirmation, busying herself, setting cups and saucers aside before she headed over toward the table to sit herself down while the water boiled. It was...hard to know what to do next. She said nothing, and Grimmer...also said nothing. It seemed each was waiting for the other to speak, but, Mrs. Müller finally broke the silence, clearing her throat politely.

“I’m very sorry about Liese. After something so traumatic...I don’t suppose I can blame her for it, even though I know you’re a good man, Mr. Grimmer. She's suffered something terrible and needs to sort out her heart, and after that, she might come back yet.” Kind, hopeful words. But Grimmer was very sure that they wouldn’t hold true. “How have you been managing?”

Yes, this question...it was one that he dreaded, one that would be difficult to answer. Though he supposed that it was difficult to answer even for someone who wasn’t like him. That was probably also true. It did give him a bit of leeway, not to know how to respond. He looked away, focusing on the kettle. He rarely made tea at home. It almost felt like the first time looking at it, realizing that it was such a pretty light blue colour. It looked just like his son’s room.

“I don’t know.” Honest. But of course, Mrs. Müller would interpret the meaning a certain way, reflective of an emotional human being. Just as his wife had perceived him a certain way. “I think there must have been a way that I could have supported Liese better. Of course it’s too late for that. I’ve been trying to decide what to do now. I don’t know.”

It wasn’t that bad of an idea, using Mrs. Müller as a sort of sounding board. It gave her the information that she wanted to know, and it also helped him to work through his own thoughts. She made a sympathetic sound, her eyes scrunching a bit in thought.

“It’s not as though loss goes away. You’re still going to feel that. Maybe for the rest of your life. But there might be something I can do to help. Or someone I know, if not me. I’m fairly well connected, I think. What is it that you’re struggling with? What do you need to know?”

It was a generous offer, and perhaps...not entirely unfounded. As a mother herself, she probably had a better grasp on this sort of thing. Grimmer was given time to think on it, as the kettle started whistling and Mrs. Müller was on her way to pour the both of them tea. What he needed to know...he had been pondering on it just moments before she arrived. It was a bit perfect, but even then, he couldn’t be sure she would have the answers. It was worth an attempt at any rate.

“Anything for your tea?”

It took Grimmer a moment to realize she was asking him. He shook his head, putting a smile on his face. “No. I’m all right. But if you’d like-”

He trailed off, realizing that she had indeed found the sugar on her own and was stirring some into her tea, coming back with both of their drinks and setting them out with that kind-eyed smile. She was waiting again. That question was still left hanging, still needed a proper response. Grimmer looked into his tea, taking a sip. It was bitterly warm, a bit of a wake-up to his senses. He heaved a sigh.

“My son was buried weeks ago. But, his room is still just as we left it. His toys, where he slept, everything. I don’t have any further use for it. But I’m not sure if it’s okay, to give it all away. If I empty out that room, then my son no longer exists.”

The silence that followed such a heavy statement was chilling. Even Mrs. Müller didn’t have an immediate soothe to respond with, but that wasn’t what Grimmer wanted in the first place. She took a sip of her sweetened tea, taking her time to ponder on how to answer. And...Grimmer found that he felt just a bit more grounded, in company. Alone it had been too easy to recede into his own thoughts. That was something he definitely noticed, without Liese around. 

“I can understand what you mean, I think. I don’t know that I agree, though. Your son is still part of you, after all. You’ll always have memories, and you’ll always have love. What’s material is important I suppose, but it’s not all that makes up your son.”

Mrs. Müller couldn’t know, of course. Her words came from a place of consideration, and in some respects they were true. Memories were definitely a part of Grimmer, now. These were new memories, things that hadn’t been taken from him, and that hopefully _wouldn’t_ be taken from him. But love, that...that part was something he couldn’t possess. Not in the way that she meant.

He didn’t feel love, but he liked to think...he hoped, at least...that it was something he could give, even so. If not from his heart then his actions. Painting the room with Liese, and the crib...those were things that he had done for her and for his son. Couldn’t that be love? The choice to do something good for someone, a person in his life that was important...wasn’t that love? Did it have to be a “feeling” that made his heart soft and sore? Surely there was more to it. Surely it was something he had shown.

Grimmer thought for a moment, setting down his tea. He turned to glance at Mrs. Müller, hands clasped in his lap.

“Would you mind if I show you his room?”

Mrs. Müller all but _sparkled_ at the offer, a kind of warm buzz settling about her as she, too, discarded her teacup. She stood, patting down her dress and holding her hands neatly in front of her, waiting as Grimmer took her to the pretty blue-painted room. The glow didn’t leave her even as she stepped inside, a curious sigh leaving her as she looked from wall to wall, then walked toward the crib, touching the wood with a delicate hand. In a moment, she had gone from neighbour to mother as she examined every fine detail that surrounded her.

“It’s a lovely room. I’m in awe. And you painted it yourself?”

He wasn’t sure if she meant the walls, or the crib she was so focused on now. Both were true, so he offered a nod, then murmured a sound of affirmation when he realized that she wouldn’t see him nodding. “We painted it together. Liese was very-”

“Oh, how _cute…”_

Grimmer blinked, trailing off as Mrs. Müller found herself enthralled with the soft white bear, smiling at it and then pausing, glancing back at Grimmer a bit sheepishly. “I apologise. It looks quite a bit like the one that Julia liked so much.” The woman smiled, but it looked almost a bit pained. “It was left behind at the park last summer. When I went back to look for it, I wasn’t able to find it. We got her a new teddy, but it’s not quite the same...that had been her favourite. It’s sad to lose something like that.”

Grimmer put a smile on his face, an appropriate response to that kind of story. He walked over, picking up the white bear and looking into its bead-black eyes.

“His name is Babo. I don’t know if that name would have stuck, but it was the first thing that my son called it, so my wife would call him that. She would ask if he wanted to play with Babo. I think it was just babble, but then it became the bear’s name.”

Mrs. Müller chuckled, looking from the crib to the gundam model with an appraising eye, though her gaze stayed a bit distant. “Julia’s bear was called Lily. I thought she might call the new one that too, but she didn’t want to replace Lily. So her new bear is called Nana.” She thought for a moment, turning back toward Grimmer.

“You said you weren’t sure what to do with everything here. If you’d like...I could help you find homes for what you’d care to part with. There are probably some things that you’d like to keep...but I know a few people who wouldn’t mind taking a look at that crib. Like I said, I’m well connected.”

That...wasn’t a terribly bad idea at all. Grimmer was very much out of his element. Doing this alone would definitely be hard, and leaving everything as it was felt like it was probably worse. Having an experienced mother help him to find proper homes for everything would at least leave him without doubt that they would be put to good use. And that was...probably the best thing that he could do, make sure that a family in need could make use, and care for their own children.

“I think I’d like that. If it’s not too much trouble for you, of course.”

“No, not at all. I’d be happy to help.”

Grimmer nodded again, looking down at the bear in his hands. It seemed so small when held by him.

“I’d appreciate it, if you wouldn’t mind, that things be kept quiet if possible. I appreciate that you came to visit me, but I don’t know that I can manage too many visits from neighbours. It’s a difficult time right now.”

It seemed like a good way to bring it up, and Mrs. Müller took it well enough. Of course, she would assume that he simply didn’t have the emotional fortitude to deal with quite so many visits, and that worked well enough for him. 

“A few others already know. I heard it through Leta, who’s been helping Liese. But I’ll make sure that everyone knows not to come pester you until you’re ready.”

Leta was a familiar name. Grimmer recalled a number of Liese’s friends that had come to their home time and again. Leta, if he wasn’t mistaken, was a few years younger than Liese and due to marry at some point in the near future. It had been a topic of Liese’s interest for quite a while. At any rate he appreciated Mrs. Müller’s promise.

“I appreciate it.” he murmured, hesitating a moment. There was a quiet between them, Grimmer holding onto that bear while Mrs. Müller took a last look around the room. After what felt like a small eternity, she once again cleared her throat in that polite way, puffing herself up a bit as she looked toward him.

“Well, I think that’s probably the most I can do for right now. I’ll have to make a few calls on the telephone, but I’ll be in touch once you decide you’re ready. We don’t have to do this all right away, after all. Unless there’s anything else you’d like me to do now...I think I might better take my leave.”

Grimmer felt a certain weight around him, not heavy but...present, blanketing. He drew in a breath, even as Mrs. Müller turned back toward the door to head out into the hall again. That weight grew heavier.

“Actually there’s…”

He was speaking before he was entirely aware of it, or even aware of just what it was he was trying to say. Mrs. Müller turned around expectantly, watching as Grimmer seemed to struggle through a confused thought train that even he couldn’t quite decipher. He swallowed, stepping closer, looking down at the bear in his hands.

“I was wondering if Julia...rather, if she’d like a friend, for Nana.”

The words were heavy in his mouth. Something was reluctant to say them, but having spoken he felt that weight lift from him. And, apparently, situate itself heavily on Mrs. Müller’s shoulders, as she became suddenly stiff and concerned, mouth opening with no words coming at first. She looked almost cautiously at the bear, then at Grimmer.

“Are...you sure? His first teddy?”

There was something sad in her voice. Perhaps because she had lamented the loss moments ago of her own daughter’s favourite toy. She was probably painting Grimmer with the same sense of loss. And Grimmer…

Wasn’t completely sure if this was the right thing to do. Babo...that bear was the one thing he had been most reluctant to be rid of. It was his son’s first toy, a toy that he had given a name to. But in his hands now...it looked tiny, unfit to the grasp of a grown adult man. Something this small and soft belonged in the hands of a child.

“If I keep him, he’ll only sit and collect dust. I think that I would… _feel_ better, knowing that Babo is going to make a child happy.”

There was momentary uncertainty shared between the both of them. It wasn’t _wrong_ to say that, was it? If not in the sense of emotion, he definitely knew that a teddy bear helping to comfort a child was being put to better use than one used to revisit old memories. But even so...those memories were all that were left. Even if he couldn’t _feel_ in that way, he was definitely...reluctant to let go. But...at the same time, it was the right thing to do. He put a smile on his face...let it be warmed, reassuring to Mrs. Müller who in turn slowly seemed to release the tension in her shoulders.

“If you’re completely sure of that, then I think Julia would be delighted. But you don’t have to, you know. I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have told you that story.”

Grimmer shook his head. “I think it helped me that you did. I didn’t know what to do with him, but I think...it’s probably a good thing, giving this to you. I know that Babo will be well cared for.”

Even so, he still held onto the bear. Grimmer took a slow breath, letting it out just as slowly. This one, last thing...

“Would you do me just one favour?” Grimmer looked the woman in the eye, his expression lacking that smile from before, turned wholly neutral. She nodded slowly, waiting. Finally Grimmer handed her the stuffed toy.

“Would you please tell your daughter what its name is? The name that my son gave it.”

The woman seemed to warm, nodding as she took the soft white bear and held it fondly. “I can do that. I don’t know if she’ll call it that name, but I’ll tell her what it was called before. I think if she knows that it was someone else’s special toy, she might keep his name.”

That was enough. Grimmer couldn’t very well expect a small child to conform to something that she had no part in, after all. And in the end...as long as the name was known, it was okay, he thought, for that name to change. At least the bear was going to be cared for by someone who needed it. He was going to be loved. He watched Mrs. Müller as she turned the bear around, examined it, smiled as she looked at its smiling face, then glanced back up at Grimmer.

“Thank you, again. I’ll make sure that she plays nicely with him.” She paused, holding the bear out once more. “Would you like to say goodbye to him?”

That...that was a question that took Grimmer off guard. He wasn’t sure if that would be appropriate. Was it normal, to say goodbye to an inanimate bear, a toy? It wasn’t alive, but it was still tied to an important memory of his son. And...if he did, it would probably make Mrs. Müller happy. It was best to keep her satisfied and willing to work under his terms. So, he reached out and took the bear into his hands again, looking in its eyes.

“Goodbye, Babo.”

. . . . .

In absence of Mrs. Müller, Grimmer found himself alone once more in that light blue room. This time, though, something felt different about it. There was a visible absence, something he could definitely say was missing. In a way that was good...the stagnation of it all had ended. Finally something was different from before, a clear distinction between before and after. He looked at the model gundam, then back to the crib.

“I’m wondering if what I did was the right thing. I can’t tell. But if not...I think at least it might be a good deed.”

Even if letting go was something that felt strange, it was definitely a good deed, to let that bear go to a child, to make that child happy. Even if he hadn’t been good as a father, and hadn’t been able to provide for his family to make them happy...at least like this, in small ways, he could make other children happy. And that had to be a good thing.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that while Grimmer can't be "sad" for the loss of his son, he would occupy his mind in unexpected ways (like thinking the kettle looks like his sons room). So maybe he didn't feel it then, but he still grieved in a way.
> 
> I am sad


End file.
